


Ice Rain

by remaya



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23296255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remaya/pseuds/remaya
Summary: Harry can get away with a few tears without any difficulty, but when he cries, it’s an entirely different story. An explosive, earth-shaking, temperature-dropping sort of story that happens to destroy Severus Snape's classroom.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort/Severus Snape
Comments: 19
Kudos: 216
Collections: Corona Challenge





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [DemonufSans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonufSans/pseuds/DemonufSans) in the [CoronaChallenge](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/CoronaChallenge) collection. 



> the lack of lengthy angst can be attributed to the influence of: lycxris, as always <3; modoki and their server, whom i just met and am already inspired by; and everyone who's been kind and hilarious on the servers these past few days! gosh, you are all so lovely <3

Harry can get away with a few tears without any difficulty, but when he _cries_ , it’s an entirely different story.

* * *

The Potter household knew Harry as the happiest baby who ever lived. He rarely cried, and if he did, he stopped once he had a fistful of his Mum’s hair. His first taste of real pain came with Voldemort; he cried and cried and cried, but nobody helped him, and by the time Dumbledore and Hagrid found him, he was quiet. 

“Is the laddie alrigh’?” Hagrid had asked, concerned, as Dumbledore checked Harry over.

“No,” said Dumbledore after a long moment, solemn. “I’m afraid only the Dursleys can help him now.” Hagrid believed him.

The Dursley household barely knew Harry. Harry tried crying once, when the gnawing of his stomach and the itchiness of his diaper too much to bear, but Petunia Dursley slapped him, reinforcing the lesson that tears didn’t get help. Late at night, Harry’s magic helped him survive. Petunia’s outrage at the waste of diapers and formula was tempered by her relief at not having to care for her sister’s unnatural child.

Harry may have cried a little, in relief, during the commotion of Hagrid’s visit while everyone was focused on Dudley, but he wiped his tears quickly. If the storm outside darkened at all, nobody ever knew.

* * *

Hogwarts, despite its dangers, is a blessing to Harry. He keeps his eyes as open as possible and tries to remember everything he can, just in case it ends: the magic, the way Hermione neatly arranges her stationary before every class except Potions, the way Ron furrows his brow during chess, the way Hagrid’s rock cakes nearly break his jaw. There are many things to remember, so whenever he’s awake in bed at night, he traces over every precious memory and prays that he never loses them, even the worse ones like the Basilisk and how gaunt Sirius was when Harry first met him.

Even Cedric’s death and Voldemort’s resurrection--  _ especially _ Cedric, whose memory Harry traces over more than any other memory in the weeks following. Everything besides it feels dull, muted. He skips much of his schoolwork-- he doesn’t have exams anyway--, he only shows up to class when Hermione drags him, and he hasn’t responded to any of Sirius’ letters. He knows that his friends are worrying, but worrying won’t bring Cedric back.

Nothing will.

* * *

Severus ruthlessly squashes the kernel of worry slipping beneath his loathing for Potter.

“Pay attention,” he snaps mid-lecture, circling the classroom. Seamus Finnegan jolts upright in his seat and frantically wipes his drool with a sleeve. Potter does not react, merely staring through Severus with that faraway gaze that Severus has come to loathe even more than the infuriating retorts. Potter’s desk is empty. Severus bites back the automatic comment-- he is not heartless, and death is a trauma any student would be hard-pressed to endure.

Severus tries to remind himself of this as the class continues and every other student sets up their cauldron. But he’s been lenient for  _ weeks _ , and Potter hasn’t pulled himself together. Severus himself had kept going after Lily’s death, hadn’t he? Severus had  _ done what he could  _ about it, and here Potter is, moping like his sorrow for losing someone he barely knew is comparable to Severus having lost the love of his life. Severus hadn’t even had friends to coddle him, and here  _ Potter  _ is, pushing away the people who would care for him.

He doesn’t even seem to want the things that Severus had wanted so badly. Fate has bestowed upon him so  _ much _ , and he’s  _ pushing it away _ . Severus is so caught up in his outrage that his concern at the unsettling vacancy of Potter’s stare rises unnoticed.

Severus has had enough. Everybody else is cleaning up and their cauldrons are already put away in the cabinets. “Potter!”

Potter shifts his attention from the world beyond the blackboard to the world just beyond Severus’ head.

“ _ What  _ do you think you’re doing?” Severus’ tone grows sharper and sharper as he steps closer and closer, the pent-up frustration of the past weeks flooding out of him, each word meant to pierce. “Do you think your moping will bring him back?  _ Nothing  _ will. You have no  _ right _ to expect leniency while the rest of the world moves on! Do you think you’re  _ unique _ in your grief? Do you think others get the privilege to be  _ coddled? _ Deal with your feelings elsewhere, but  _ they do not affect your performance in my classroom. _ ” He slams a hand on Harry’s desk and looms. “ _ Do you understand me? _ ”

Potter blinks rapidly at him. The classroom is utterly silent.

“Do you understand me,  _ boy _ ?”

All of a sudden, Potter flinches, curls in on himself and bursts into tears. 

They’re ugly tears, the sort that shake through his entire body. Briefly, Severus imagines that he might be shaking a little himself, from the shock.

Then the cauldrons explode and so do the windows and glass vials, and Severus registers that no, it’s not  _ him _ who’s shaking, it’s the ground. His Dark Mark starts  _ burning _ . The students’ screams remind him that now is not the time to realize that he hasn’t ever seen Potter’s tears before.

“Out! Out!” he commands, coming back to his senses. “Everybody get out and go to the Hospital Wing!”

“Harry,” Ron Weasley says desperately, fighting against reason and the sudden wind to get to Harry. Severus’ wand is in his hand before he knows it; he pushes the students out with a blast of magic and slams the door shut.

“Harry!” another student shouts, their voice muffled through the stone. Severus leaves them be, trusting Granger, at least, to be level-headed and to follow his direction. He turns back to Harry, around whom the air is darkening. As he takes a step forward, the temperature drops.

“Potter,” he says sharply, shielding himself and making his way towards the boy.

Potter takes several heaving breaths. “I-- I can’t,” he whispers, his voice breaking, and Severus hears it clearly because the room is silent in its devastation. “I can’t stop.”

“Potter,” Severus tries again, reaching towards Potter. At his touch, Potter gives a broken sob and scrambles back, out of his chair and onto the ground.

“I’ll stop,” he gasps quietly, “I’ll stop. Please, don’t.”

“I will not touch you,” Snape says evenly, inching closer. Potter is breathing far too quickly. “Breathe in. One, two, three, four. Exhale. One, two, three, four.” Potter shudders and tries his best to obey, but his breaths remain shallow. The room still shakes; the broken glass from the vials and windows and the iron and pewter and copper from the cauldrons swirl about the room along with other odds and ends. It darkens until Severus can barely see, and his light and warming charms have little effect against the oppressive atmosphere.

The burning of his Dark Mark peaks. Between one moment and the next, Voldemort appears next to him. Severus falls to his knees instinctively.

“My Lord,” he murmurs, a sickly apprehension settling in his gut. Why is Voldemort here?

“Harry Potter,” Voldemort says after weighing the situation, “what ails him?”

“He is crying, my Lord,” Severus answers. Salazar save him from Dark Lords and troublesome children-- he feels aged and tired.

Displeased, Voldemort leaves him and approaches Potter. Severus discreetly palms his wand and hopes against hope that his Lord is feeling merciful, or at least whimsical.

Voldemort magic is powerful and protects him against the onslaught of Harry’s distress when he grabs Harry’s shoulders and shakes him lightly. “Enough,” says his Lord. “You are harming yourself.” Harry wails, hyperventilating. Clearly his Lord is not suitable for calming down children, as it seems is his aim. Severus is not sure what to do. Is he audacious enough to offer a suggestion?

… yes.

“My Lord, you are also harming him-- he will not be able to calm down.”

Voldemort looks down at the tight grip he has on Potter. “I…” He glares at Severus, but he lets go and shuffles back. “Why can he not  _ stop? _ ”

Severus winces. “I may have provoked him, my Lord.” He hastily adds under Voldemort’s scowl, “It would have happened sooner or later! He was not coping well with the Diggory boy’s death… and everything else that happened in the graveyard.”

“Why ever not? He’s been mostly fine, before.” Voldemort turns back to Potter, who’s silent again but for the occasional hitch in his breath. His eyes are wide, red-rimmed, and dewy, and Severus’s heart clenches strangely in his chest.

“My Lord,” Severus begins, but thinks better of it. 

“No,  _ do _ go on, Severus,” Voldemort says silkily.

_ I’d prefer not to _ . “Well,” Severus says tentatively, dusting off his silver tongue, “death and murder attempts can be… traumatizing. To a child.”

Voldemort scrutinizes Potter. “I suppose,” he says slowly. “He does look rather traumatized.”

_ No shit _ .

“Not a revelation, Rowena,” says Potter, and for a terrifying second Severus almost thinks he’d accidentally said it himself. Potter continues dully, “You here to finish off the job? I imagine it wouldn’t be hard.”

“... No,” says Voldemort.

“No?” Harry and Severus echo, bewildered. Harry seems to have been surprised out of his crying state; the room is slowly returning to a normal temperature and lighting, although there are still tremors every now and then.

Voldemort says, exasperated, “I wouldn’t kill my horcrux. Keep up.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” says Severus.

“Yes, clarify for the rest of us mortals,” Harry agrees. He withers under Severus’ glower. “No snark, Dark Lord, got it,” he squeaks, and scoots a few centimeters back, away from Voldemort.

Voldemort rolls his eyes. “I should have chosen Longbottom. Longbottom has respect.”

“Neville has  _ fear _ ,” Harry snarks, then cringes as Voldemort’s red eyes turn to him again and Severus’ disapproval intensifies.

“That  _ is  _ what I said,” says Voldemort. “Pay attention, Potter. We’re going to see Dumbledore.”

“We are?”

"Stop _questioning_ him," Severus hisses. He scoops Harry up and follows Voldemort, who sweeps out of the dungeons without glancing back.


	2. Chapter 2

2

  
  


Voldemort gliding through the corridors garners awe and terror; he is not attacked only due to the authority of Severus’ scowl. Harry hides his red-rimmed eyes in Severus’ cloak, and he doesn’t try to walk on his own, even as they near Dumbledore’s office. Severus feels nothing about this, and about how thin Harry is. Nothing. At all.

Dumbledore attempts to hide his shock by peering at them over his half-moon spectacles, as if judging them. Severus sees right through him; if he was less surprised, he would have offered them lemon drops.

Potter, on the other hand, looks distinctively guilty, even though he has no reason to be. “I’m sorry, Professor,” he blurts as soon as he lifts his face from Severus’ cloak.

“Cease, Potter,” Voldemort drawls. “Dumbledore, I am here to negotiate.”

“Oh?” Dumbledore says, apprehensively.

“Harry Potter, in return for Hogwarts’ safety.”

“Now,” says Dumbledore, stalling for time.

“There is no ‘now’ about it,” Voldemort says. He idly twirls his wand, but his gaze and posture are intent. “He is my horcrux, and I will keep him safe as such. I discovered it when I felt his distress from the Manor and was able to break the wards to apparate here. I am willing to… compromise for him.”

Dumbledore’s jaw drops. Voldemort waits for his response, but it doesn’t come; Dumbledore appears truly speechless, rapidly paling.

“What’s a horcrux?” Harry pipes up.

“He will finish his schooling, of course,” Voldemort continues, instead of answering. “I would not have him uneducated. And there is the matter of protection.”

So begins Harry’s strange, promising future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's it, y'all! just a tiny chapter to wrap it up and leave it on a hopeful note <3

**Author's Note:**

> I don't normally ship Severus and Harry in any capacity,, but the prompt ;-;
> 
> **Prompt:**
> 
> Harry Potter doesn't cry often but when he does windows break, the ground shacks, and everything starts to get cold and dark. One day Severus Snape makes one nasty comment to many and Harry cries for the first time and the cauldrons explode, windows break, the ground shacks, and everything starts to get cold and dark. The Slytherins and Gryffindors are shooked.  
> Voldemort feels Harry's panic attack from all the way in Malfoy manor as he and harry have a connection via Horcrux.
> 
> Severus x harry x Tom


End file.
